The Stretch of Land

Here they are standing aloof on the backside of town Here they are sitting on the bare, stricken ground with strange smells filtering all around. Smells that fill the atmosphere with an awful stench. disgusting smells, horrible smells coalesce with burning incense and perfume to conceal the terrible odor. Here they are with their self made army sipping a bottle of dry whiskey weapon in hand trousers girt tight ready and waiting to fight. This night the north wind blows furiously through villages and towns, tearing down barricade, overturning powerful trees sending derbies flying as far as six feet in the air. They stood and watch from a mutual spot occasionally running for cover each time the wind gets close to their border. They waited anxiously for this night to cease but the turbulence agitated them and kept them on their feet. I saw them pacing back and forth unable to bare the cold that penetrated their intoxicated soul. Amidst the raging wind I obtained comfort from within, I located a quite place in a hole where I could sing, and hide away from the infuriated and vicious wind. I meander away quietly in a deep sleep and later appeared on an extensive stretch of fertile land. There I was walking peacefully on this vast land an immense land filled with mango trees trees whose branches were laden with different species of mangos. Among them were mango trees that were filled with blossom. The blooming trees smiled at me with intense glory. Green mangos of contrasting shapes and sizes hang humbly from the encumbered branches creating a tranquil atmosphere. I walked around composedly and admired their awesome beauty and absorb the magnificent scenery that filtered beyond the land. I faded slowly into day break and plunged into a harmonious atmosphere. ©2014 Christine Phillips